


The Difference Between the Lightning Bug and the Lightning

by AbhorrentGodliness



Series: Perception: 0 [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Boners, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Beards (Facial Hair), Biting, Blow Jobs, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doggy Style, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Facial Shaving, Facials, First Dates, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Grinding, Height Differences, Height Kink, Licking, Loss of Virginity, Marking, Masturbation, Missionary Position, Multiple Orgasms, Oblivious, POV Third Person, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Spanking, Strength Kink, Teasing, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbhorrentGodliness/pseuds/AbhorrentGodliness
Summary: There are plenty of words in the English language that adequately describe General Nora Parker—clumsy, strange, fiery, comical, determined—and it is through her persistence that Elder Arthur Maxson gets to know her, soon discovering these words may be accurate, but they’re still not quite right.
Relationships: Arthur Maxson/Female Sole Survivor, Arthur Maxson/Sole Survivor
Series: Perception: 0 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814101
Comments: 37
Kudos: 107





	1. Unusual

She was… unusual.

Unlike anyone he’d ever met before.

She came to the Prydwen the same time every week to share whatever information she’d learned about the Institute, even if that information was insignificant. Paladin Danse had offered to relay it for her, but she’d apparently insisted on doing it herself without providing an explanation.

It made no sense, really.

Regardless, her cooperation was appreciated. She’d provided some valuable intel on their mutual enemy thus far and he knew she was likely to find even more, so he wouldn’t complain about her unusual persistence to be the one to hand everything over to him personally. Even if it was… _uncomfortable_ the way she looked at him.

Perhaps _’uncomfortable’_ was inaccurate, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to describe the way it made him feel. She always smiled in his presence, sometimes biting her bottom lip, and occasionally he’d catch her eyes slowly straying up and down while she stared at him. There was even an audible difference in her voice between how she spoke to him and how she spoke to everyone else—her tone was higher-pitched, lighter, almost excited.

Yet another thing that made no damn sense.

And still, he felt the need to—

“Elder Maxson.”

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts at the sound of that familiar, feminine voice. He turned his head, his eyes dropping to land on the red-haired woman who was an entire foot shorter than him as she was suddenly standing at his side, facing the window of the observation deck that overlooked the Commonwealth. From what he understood, she wasn’t a very quiet person, so how she’d managed to make her way onto the observation deck and to his side without even making enough noise to grab his attention was beyond him. Perhaps he was that deep in his own mind.

“General Parker,” he greeted.

The General looked up at him without turning her body, a wide grin stretching across freckled cheeks as their eyes met. She’d never been this close to him before, always having kept some amount of distance between them, but from where they both stood, he could see the exact color of her eyes. They were blue—he’d always known that much—but they were darker than his own, almost like a cabochon lapis lazuli.

“You trimmed your beard,” she noted.

Blinking, Maxson ran his fingers through the coarse hair on the lower half of his face. He… had trimmed his beard, that was true. It wasn’t much, but the hairs were getting far too scraggly. Still, she’d noticed, which was… something.

He wasn’t sure _what,_ though.

But her eyes were on his hand as he brushed his beard out, her teeth biting at her bottom lip; the second he noticed, he cleared his throat, then folded both hands behind his back before returning his gaze to the Commonwealth.

She mimicked his stance.

_Why?_

“What do you have for me today, General?” he asked.

“Besides myself?”

Maxson’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t look to her. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Her grin was visible in the slight reflection of the window. Was she looking at him? “Not much, really. Found out where a nest of gen 2 synths might be, but we’re not sure why yet, and we don’t know if it’s even significant, anyway. But I’ll keep you updated.”

“Very well. What else?”

“That’s it.”

A glance was sent in her direction. “That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“… You don’t have anything else?”

“Nope.”

Arthur took a slow inhale as he turned to face the General; she did the same, a grin still stretched wide across freckled cheeks. But was she even _closer_ now or did it just feel that way because they were facing one another?

“General Parker,” he started, but had to remind himself that this was not one of his soldiers and he could not speak to her as such; she’d declined his offer to join the Brotherhood. “You do know it’s not necessary for you to board the Prydwen every week, correct? And it’s perfectly acceptable to send your intel up with Paladin Danse.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied.

He stared at her for a long moment, a cocktail of confusion and curiosity washing over him. Why did she insist on being the one to hand everything over, especially when she had little to no information to give? It seemed… _wasteful._ Counter-productive.

“Maybe I like coming up here, Elder.”

_Unusual._

This wasn’t making any sense. Danse had mentioned how she didn’t even seem to fare well during vertibird flights—apparently disliking being so high up in the air—and yet, she _still_ insisted that she bring intel up to the Prydwen herself?

“But… _why?”_

Her eyes dropped just slightly before returning to his own, her grin widening even more to bare straight, pearly white teeth.

But rather than answering him, she changed the subject.

“You’ve never been to the castle before, have you?”

Maxson blinked, caught off guard. “Ah… no, I have not.”

“Why don’t you come back with me, then? I’ll give you an official General Nora Parker Tour. Besides, we put up some new defenses that I think you’d be interested in seeing.”

The offer was… tempting. Her defenses were mortars, he knew that, and those mortars were very capable of reaching the Prydwen should she desire them to, so it was absolutely something he wanted to inspect and at least devise a plan if that were to happen. 

“I’m not sure—”

“Come on, _Arthur,”_ she purred; the Elder nearly _bristled._ “Let me show off for you.”

Show off for him? What did that even—

###  **♔ ═══════ ♡ ═══════ ♕**

Danse hadn’t been lying when he’d said General Parker didn’t fare well on vertibirds; and, really, _’didn’t fare well’_ was an understatement. She clung to one of the metal handles to keep herself steady, her face buried against her bicep while her eyes were tightly shut as she was clearly trying to hold down whatever food might be threatening to come up.

This wasn’t anything new to him. Plenty of his soldiers started off the exact same way but were usually over it quickly. The General, however, had been visiting him for weeks now and still hadn’t managed to get it under control—and yet, she still insisted she be the one to bring him any bit of intel she had.

He watched her closely, looking her up and down, trying to figure out just what sort of game this small, prewar woman was playing with him. What was her goal? What did she want? But even with all these questions, he found no such game—or at least no answers—just an unusual woman who seemed to be going through life without a single plan to help guide her.

He could not relate.

When they landed, her face was almost green, but its original color returned not long after she stepped off the ‘bird and onto solid ground. He gave her time to regain herself, glancing around the courtyard.

“General, if you despise flying so much, why do you insist on getting in a vertibird every week to deliver intel you could send through Paladin Danse?” he asked.

She held up a finger, putting her other hand to her mouth, her lips pressed against the side of her closed fist for a moment before a slow exhale was released from her nose, both hands finally dropping. “Are you saying you don’t like it when I visit you, Elder Maxson?”

What did that have to do with—

“See that wall?” She motioned in front of them before he had a chance to respond. There wasn’t even a wall, really—it was just a giant hole. “Mirelurk queen broke through it however long ago, left that pretty decoration in our defenses. We killed the queen when we took the castle back.” She turned around and he followed, noting where her finger pointed. “That right there is the radio tower. If you’ve ever tuned in to the Minutemen channel and heard that annoying as shit music, this is where it comes from. I tried to convince Preston to play something better, but he wasn’t having it.”

A wide grin had stretched across her face again and she glanced at him before looking at the exterior wall again. “Come on, I’ll show you the mortars. I know that’s probably what you care about.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But when his hand was grabbed, her fingers wrapping around his index and middle ones as she tugged him along—well, _tried_ to tug him along—his face flushed. She could have just asked him to follow her and he would have, but instead she chose to _grab his hand._ Part of him wanted to pull away, but the part that didn’t won over and allowed her to lead him to one of the mortars on the wall.

Once they reached a mortar, she finally released his hand; he shoved both in the pockets of his coat while watching her circle the large artillery. “This, dear Elder,” she said, smacking her palm on top of the unit once before wincing, “Is what I plan to take your ship down with.”

Maxson arched one eyebrow.

“… Okay, maybe that wasn’t funny to _you,_ but it was funny to _me,”_ she grumbled, deflating. “I’m only joking, anyway.”

A quiet noise of acknowledgement was made. She had a strange sense of humor, like everything was a joke to her and she couldn’t take anything serious. That didn’t make any damn sense, either.

“We’ve got a handful of mortars up now, and we’ll have even more up soon. We’re also installing them in every settlement. Impressive, right?” she asked, locking eyes with him.

It… actually was impressive. Prewar technology was dangerous, but the castle and mortars dated much further back than the Great War. They’d survived a lot more than Arthur would ever know. “Yes, they are. Do you know what the range is?”

The General opened her mouth to answer before closing it, one hand lifting as her finger tapped the tip of her freckled nose. “You know, I don’t. I just know they go far. And when a giant ball is bigger than me, I really don’t want to be struck by it.”

“That’s certainly a sound thought.”

“Let’s go back to the courtyard and I’ll show you the rest of the place.”

Maxson was tugged around the castle as she showed him the interior—a clinic, kitchen, sleeping area, armory, and others—by grabbing on to part of his coat since he was hiding his hands away from her touchiness, though she seemed to have no problem finding somewhere else to grab.

But the last room they ended up in was large with two doors, and as she opened them, she spread her arms out to the side as if presenting something. “And _this_ is my bedroom.”

He glanced around, noticing her quarters were nothing like his. He owned few personal items of pleasure and everything was always neat and tidy—aside from the liquor bottles on his desk, of course, but they were at least set in a group and out of the way. But Nora’s room…

“It’s a mess, I know,” she admitted, dropping her arms to the side. “I’m not big on, uh… well.”

“Organizing?”

She teetered her head from side-to-side. “Something like that.”

Stepping over to a dresser that was on the left side of the room, he took note of the stacks of comic books. None were in terribly great shape, but they all looked like they were still together—he was reminded about how he enjoyed reading comics when he was a boy. Now, he just read whatever he could get his hands on.

“And just so you know, you’re more than welcome to stop by the castle any time you need.”

“I greatly appreciate it, General, but I don’t think—”

“Or my quarters.”

He snapped his jaw shut before turning to look at her, finding that same grin stretched across her face while her hands were folded behind her back. They stared at one another for a few silent seconds before Arthur cleared his throat. “I… beg your pardon?”

But those royal blue eyes glanced him up and down, and he felt a flush slowly run up his neck and into his beard; Nora shrugged and started toward the door. “Welp, that’s all of the castle!” she exclaimed as he followed her.

_Unusual._

They returned to the vertibird, stopping outside it and facing one another.

“I’m glad you came. I do want this alliance to work, and I think a better relationship between the two of us can help bolster that. No matter what that relationship is.”

She had to be toying with him.

Right?

Did her cheeks hurt from grinning so much? 

Arthur cleared his throat, nodding. “Yes, I believe the alliance between our factions will help improve the Commonwealth. You seem to lead your people well. If there is anything you need, feel free to contact my ship or send the request up through Paladin Danse.”

“Or come up there, myself.”

He nodded again, this time a bit slower. “Or come up there yourself, of course.”

Nora folded her hands behind her back as she stepped a bit closer to him—all he could do was watch her, unsure what she was up to, even as she was nearly pressed against him, a mere inch between their bodies.

But when she stood up on her tiptoes, only to lean in and kiss him on his jaw—unable to reach his cheek, apparently—he was frozen in place. Of course, her reaction was to continue grinning as she settled back onto her feet, then one hand raised to her forehead, two fingers giving him some sort of salute.

“Until next time, Elder.”

Perhaps _’unusual’_ was the wrong word to describe General Parker. He’d need to find another.


	2. Peculiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Crawl through it," he whispered, pointing to the opening.
> 
> “Arthur, my ass is _not_ fitting through that—” his eyes dropped to her hips; she had a fair point, “—And, frankly, I don’t think _yours_ is, either. Or literally any other part of you.”

It had been some time since Maxson had been out in the field, almost always being cooped up on the Prydwen and working. Considering his rank and name, any time he stepped foot off his ship, he knew it was best to have an escort of soldiers with him, because if he died, the Maxson Dynasty would end and his chapter would descend into chaos—the Brotherhood would never recover. And if it did, it would not be the same.

The choice to leave without an escort was, indeed, foolish, but that was now in the back of his mind as there was a small, prewar vault dweller fighting at his side while they worked their way through a hospital filled with gen 2 synths.

It was General Parker’s doing that he’d even stepped off the Prydwen, of course. She’d mentioned a nest of synths during one of their meetings, only to come back the next week, inviting him to accompany her so they could find out just what the synths were doing inside a hospital. He was hesitant at first, knowing it likely wasn’t a good idea especially because he had a lot of work to finish, but she’d made some comments that were slightly taunting and teasing and… well, here he was.

They’d cleared about two floors, working fluidly together, and racked up a synth body count in the double digits. Their weapons contrasted but complimented one another: his Gatling laser fired much heavier and did more damage while her plasma rifle was more precise, even if her aim wasn’t spectacular. And perhaps it was because of this that she stuck close to him and he close to her—thankfully—because he knew that if either of them was to disappear on the other’s watch, it wouldn’t be good for the surviving leader’s faction.

Not that the Minutemen held any leverage over the Brotherhood, but he had no desire to waste resources on fighting allies because something happened when it could have been avoided.

For the moment, they were safe, moving through a cafeteria that was turned into an utter mess likely not long ago. They’d taken down a few synths upon entering the room, but nothing else came trailing in, so they took that time to breathe.

At least until familiar guffaws echoed from down the hallway, warning them that they were not alone—nor were the synths the only enemies in the building.

“Super mutants,” she whispered.

He didn’t get the chance to respond, however, before blue streaks of energy were sent in their direction from the only viable exit, the other one blocked off by jammed doors. Maxson was quick to overturn a nearby table, ducking behind it with Nora on his heels. They took turns shooting, but synth after synth poured into the cafeteria—and at the same time, he could hear those monstrous laughs and taunts growing closer as they fought the humanoid robots.

The moment one of those green beasts stepped into the room, all hell broke loose.

It was chaos.

Complete and utter chaos.

A wave of green flooded from the same exit the synths had come through, Arthur and Nora having entered the same way before, and streaks of blue and red were exchanged back and forth like fireworks, flying everywhere and striking everything. With the synths now distracted, the two of them were no longer part of the fight, but by the sound of it, there were more super mutants than synths—and those creatures would know they were there in no time if they didn’t escape.

Glancing around, Maxson tried to find a way out, but his eyes settled on the only other doorway in the room, realizing there was a clear path to it. It was a twin set of doors, both broken and closed in on themselves in the center, but there was a big enough opening at the bottom for someone to crawl through.

That was their only chance out.

He pointed to it. “Go. Stay low to the ground.”

Nora moved first and he trailed after, remaining close by, both trying to hide behind furniture and whatever else they could find to avoid the continuing fire and so monstrous eyes didn’t fall on them. But once they were close enough to the exit, he pointed to it again, this time to the hole at the bottom.

“Crawl through it.”

“Arthur, my ass is _not_ fitting through that—” his eyes dropped to her hips; she had a fair point, “—And, frankly, I don’t think _yours_ is, either. Or literally any other part of you.”

He pursed his lips but didn’t have time to dwell on the fact she’d apparently been looking at his ass. “Alright, stay here. But as soon as that door opens, you run for it. Understood?” When she nodded, he moved around her and straight to the exit, remaining low to the ground.

It was clear the doors weren’t chained shut, they just looked jammed from having been crushed in on one another, which was a good sign. Potentially, he could have used his Gatling laser to cut a hole into the rotted wood, but that’d take too long and draw attention to them.

Brute force, it was.

A quick glance to his companion was made, then to the mutants and synths that were still distracted—there were significantly _fewer_ synths now, so their time was running short—before he set his laser on the ground, stabled himself, and thrust one foot right in the center of the doors where they were seemingly jammed together. The noise was loud, but it did the job.

And it drew attention.

_”Go, Nora!”_

The General ran past him and Arthur snatched his weapon off the ground before following, hearing a few sets of heavy footsteps doing the same; the two managed to dodge bullets and laser fire that came at them from behind, thankfully. But as they continued maneuvering through the building, he realized it might have been a mistake to let her lead because either she didn’t know where she was going or she was decidedly running in circles—he was almost _certain_ they’d went through the same hallway at least twice.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t a mistake, because the mutants were no longer on their tails.

Perhaps that was her goal all along.

She cut off into a room to their right and he almost ran directly past it, nearly skidding to a stop to go in with her, then shutting the broken door behind him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she panted. “What do we do?”

“They’re still close. We need to hide until they give up on searching, but they’ll bust every door down before they do.”

They both seemed to notice the closet at the same time, and Nora was quick to open it. The thing was empty, but it was _small,_ probably having held some cleaning supplies at one point. Whether they’d both fit, or not…

There was no time to dwell on the thought, however, because heavy footsteps grew closer to the room they were in, and a taunting _’here, human, human, human’_ was just loud enough that he knew it was almost right outside the door. Maxson shoved Final Judgment onto one side of the closet, doing the same with her rifle.

Just as the door to the room opened, he grabbed Nora around her midsection with one arm and pulled her back against his front before immediately stepping into the closet and shutting the door behind him. She was squished between his chest and the wall, his back exposed to the door, but that didn’t matter—if they were found, they were dead.

Neither of them moved, and both slowed their breathing to keep quiet as the super mutants walked around the room, one mumbling to itself how it didn’t want to eat mole rat again. The beasts didn’t seem interested in the closet—or maybe they didn’t notice it—because they were gone soon enough.

Maxson released a slow breath and Nora pressed her forehead to the wall and sighed, both relieved.

They remained quiet for a few more minutes, just listening to the super mutants walk up and down the hall during their search, but her whispered voice snatched his attention and confusion washed over his face.

She’d turned her head to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “You, uh… do you have a pistol on you, or anything?”

“What? No, why?”

“Just curious.”

Maxson frowned. He’d informed her of every weapon he had on him before the mission even began, including the knife in his boot, so she would have known he didn’t have a pistol.

But it was mere seconds later that a red flush ran up his face and neck as he became acutely aware of their physical situation—specifically the fact his cock was pressed down against the curve of her ass—and that his body had _reacted._

Her ass… that was too big to fit through the small opening in the door.

The same ass he’d caught himself glancing at a few different times.

_Stop thinking about it._

“Jesus, General, I wasn’t… it’s not—it’s not intentional, I swear. _Fuck,_ I’m sorry.”

But she _laughed_ —and if that wasn’t bad enough, she laughed _loudly._ Maxson immediately smacked his free hand over her mouth to cover it, yanking her head back against his chest to keep her quiet. And while her laugh was unexpected, her reaction to having her mouth covered was even _more_ unexpected.

Nora grabbed onto his wrist and gasped, but the sound that followed was something he could only describe as _pleasurable._ For them _both._

The two froze in their movements and Arthur’s eyes slowly dropped to look down at the side of her face, noting how _her_ eyes were wide before she slowly turned her head to look up at him out of the corner of one. It was hard to really see any defining features despite how light shone through the cracks in the door, but he felt her face grow hot beneath his hand, and he was almost glad he wasn’t the only one who’d been embarrassed in this damn closet.

Heavy footsteps were outside the room again, but still far enough away that he felt confident enough to whisper. “Never speak of this to anyone. Agreed?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“Good. As soon as they’re gone again, we can try to sneak out, but we might have to go back through the cafeteria. I didn’t see any stairs when we were running.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as a heavy exhale was released from her nose, just above his hand.

Then she shifted her hips.

_Shifted them._

And he felt every millimeter of movement against his cock.

The arm around her midsection pulled her tighter against him. “Stop moving.”

There was an apology muffled against his palm and she didn’t move again at first, but there was an audible increase in the pace of her breathing, which told him something was off. And when she moved the _second_ time, her ass was pushed back against him some more, increasing the pressure on his cock; he gritted his teeth.

“General, I need you to stop moving, _please._ I’m not trying to—it just _happened._ But if you keep moving—”

She pulled his hand off her mouth. “Then stop fucking whispering in my ear, Arthur. You think you’re the only one having trouble with this?”

It… had not occurred to him that his whispering would do anything but based on the sort of noise she made from having her mouth covered, it made sense.

“Sorry,” he mumbled before turning his head away from her.

Those super mutants needed to leave, and they needed to leave _now._

###  **♔ ═══════ ♡ ═══════ ♕**

He wasn’t sure how long they were stuck together in the closet, but he knew that by the time they were finally free, his entire groin was _aching,_ and he was still semi-hard. Thankfully, she hadn’t commented on it, granting him some sort of mercy.

They’d managed to make it through the rest of the hospital without stumbling upon any other enemies—neither synths nor super mutants—which was a relief. And the entire ride to the castle was quiet as, just like last time, she clung to the handle the entire way.

Once they landed, he jumped out of the vertibird first, then helped her out to ensure she was alright, unwilling to leave her if she was in some sort of state even if it was just from flying. Their mission was… well, _intense,_ after all, and they hadn’t even found anything worthwhile nor the reason the synths were at the hospital. 

Maxson remained with her for a few minutes, and as soon as she returned to her normal color, he deemed it appropriate to leave. But when he saw that familiar, wide grin stretch across her face, he could only stare down at her. 

Just like last time, the General leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his jaw before settling back on her feet, her eyes glancing down just slightly—to his mouth?—before returning to his gaze; her grin grew even wider.

“Thanks for coming with me on the mission,” she said. “Sorry it was a bust, but I had fun. And, just between us…” Nora leaned in a little more, her chest barely pressing against his stomach, “I definitely look forward to getting stuck in a closet with you again.”

Heat ran up his neck and face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nora gave him that two-finger salute again.

“Until next time, Elder.”

###  **♔ ═══════ ♡ ═══════ ♕**

By the time he was back on the Prydwen and in his quarters, it was past curfew, and he was completely exhausted. Stacks of reports were mounted on the table and desk, reminding him that he was falling behind in his work, and he knew he needed to at least sign off on a few of them before he tried to sleep.

But he couldn’t keep his mind off the General.

She was… peculiar.

Removing his coat, he folded it in half and tossed it over the back of one of the chairs just before he found himself pouring a glass of whiskey and sitting in his usual seat at the table.

Why was this woman stuck in his head? Why was it that everything she did either caught him off guard or confused him or made him want to know more? What was it about her? Something specific? _Everything?_

She was unlike anyone he’d ever met before—different in every possible way. 

But… was she toying with him? He didn’t understand some of the things she said, but others—like how she wanted to get stuck in a closet with him again—were crystal clear inferences. Had she been intentionally rubbing against him in there? Could she feel him well or just barely?

_Stop it._

His hand found his cock—when the hell had he undone his suit and pushed it down to his thighs?—and made slow strokes, imagining the General was between his legs, her much smaller hand wrapped around his girth before she sucked the head of his dick between her lips, those pretty lapris lazuli eyes staring up at him.

No, he couldn’t think of her like that. They were allies; leaders of their factions. Anything between them was unprofessional. It didn’t matter how she spoke to him because those were always jokes—and while it’d taken some time for him to get used to her humor, he eventually realized _everything_ was a damn joke to her.

There was nothing there.

Rather than her mouth, it was her pussy, while he had her pinned in the same closet, one hand over her mouth to keep her quiet while his other arm was wrapped around her midsection as he fucked her from behind. She keened into his palm, her body writhing in his grasp, and those dark freckles that were splashed across her nose and cheeks were almost hidden by how red her face was.

_No. Stop thinking of her._

Faceless. Only from the neck down. But even when he tried that, he still saw freckles and wide hips and a large bust and small hands—he still saw _her_ body shape, still heard _her_ voice as she moaned.

Frustration washed over him as he pumped himself faster, his eyes closing a bit tighter.

He imagined how her ass looked with each thrust of his hips from behind, how the skin would ripple from every collision. She had enough for him to grab on to when he wanted, which would allow him to use her own body as leverage to fuck her harder.

Would she beg him for more? And how pretty would that sound?

Heat was already coiling deep in his belly and at the base of his spine, warning him he was close. “Fuck,” Arthur breathed, his chest slightly heaving.

He lifted his undershirt up to his pectorals, baring his stomach; and when he came, he came _hard._ Being stuck in that closet had his cock erect almost the entire time, which meant streak after streak of cum shot out along his belly as he kept stroking himself, a low groan escaping him.

How good would his cum look on her face? In her mouth? _Dripping out of her?_

Arthur deflated in his chair, one hand still wrapped around his cock, as he tried to catch his breath.

He shouldn’t have done that. He really shouldn’t have. But this woman was confusing; she teased him, but he knew it wasn’t real, knew it was some sort of flirty personality that plenty of people had. 

She was so damn… peculiar.

No, that didn’t seem like the right word, either.


	3. Tantalizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She opened the bag and pulled out some scissors—they looked brand new. “I want to trim your beard.”
> 
> “Absolutely not.”
> 
> “Oh, come on! I can make it look cleaner and neater; I promise. Are you really saying you don’t trust me?”
> 
> “I’m saying I don’t trust _anyone_ shaving my face and _especially_ with a razor or scissors to my neck.”

She was late.

Not that he was counting the minutes, or anything.

But she _was_ late.

Maxson remained sat in his quarters at the table in his usual seat, reports scattered around him as he went through reading and signing off on them. For the most part, it was a waste of time. The reports were solely for documentative purposes, but he still had to put his stamp of approval on them, stating he’d read each one and that everything was fine.

He was getting a headache.

But his break from work came with the door to his quarters opening without an accompanying knock as General Parker entered.

“Gooooood moooorning, Elder!” she exclaimed with a grin.

A glance to the alarm clock on his nightstand was made. “It’s not morning. And you’re late.”

“Aww, did you miss me?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Don’t worry, I come bearing gifts as an apology!”

She kicked the door shut before approaching the table, setting a few items down atop it: a small black bag, a book, and something else he didn’t get a look at. The book was slid toward him and he picked it up, flipping through some pages. It was hardback, sort of, but not very thick.

“Danse said you like to read, so I wanted to give you this.”

Rough fingers ran over the title that was printed on the front. _’Death and Destruction: The Resource Wars and Those Who Can’t Fight Back.’_

“What is it?”

“My dissertation. I had to write it in order to graduate with my law degree. I think it might interest you.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod, setting the book on top of a stack of reports. “I will read it as soon as I can and return it to you, then.”

“No, you can keep it. I have no use for it now. That was one of the few things that didn’t get burned up from the war since it was in a safe with some other stuff.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” Arthur motioned to one of the chairs, offering her to sit, and she sat in the one diagonally from him and to his left. “So, what news do you have for me this week?”

“Nothing, actually.” The look he gave her must have been humorous because it only made her grin. “I actually just wanted to do something for you. And give you some stuff.”

“… Do what for me, exactly?”

When her tongue swept over her lips, he couldn’t help but look down at it—a brutal reminder of the inappropriate thoughts he’d had about her over the past week.

“Nate had a beard. Took really good care of it, too. Shaved and trimmed it himself, used all sorts of stuff. Taught me how to do all of it, as well.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes, unsure he liked where this was going.

 _”So.”_ She opened the bag and pulled out some scissors—they looked brand new. “I want to trim your beard.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on! I can make it look cleaner and neater; I promise. Are you really saying you don’t trust me?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust _anyone_ shaving my face and _especially_ with a razor or scissors to my neck.”

Nora pursed her lips before releasing a heavy, dramatic sigh, then grabbed the one item she’d brought that he couldn’t see off the table, setting it in front of him. It was… a chess piece—specifically, a black vizier. Maxson studied it for a long moment before slowly picking it up, spinning it around in his fingers as he observed it further.

“What is this for?”

“Found it. Thought of you.”

“That’s very, ah… kind, General,” he said, clearing his throat.

But the fact she’d thought of him when she saw it… his mind drifted again to how he’d thought of her only a week ago—and how he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about her since then. How, in his thoughts, he’d fucked her mouth just last night.

“Is it helping sway your decision?”

Manipulative. A low noise escaped his chest as he hesitated, running his fingers through his beard. What was wrong with it, anyway? No one had ever said anything to him about it before. Still, he set the chess piece on the table atop the book. “How short?”

She beamed, her smile threatening to blind him. “Just a trim to even it out. It’ll still be long. And also shaving around the edges.”

“… Alright, fine,” he conceded. “Where do you want me?”

“On top of me,” she replied while grabbing the bag.

Maxson paused. “… Excuse me?”

“Hm? Oh, I said you can stay there. That chair is good.”

He was almost _certain_ that was not what she’d said, but… perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him? Because he’d kept thinking of her? A punishment for how unkind he was to her in some of those private thoughts.

Everything that was in the bag was soon set out on the table and Arthur eyed it all: a straight razor, some sort of bristle brush, scissors, and a small bottle of something. Nora asked where she could get some towels, and he directed her to a dresser drawer where she retrieved two, one placed on the table beside her things while the other was still in her hands as she eyed him.

“This might seem weird,” she began, which really just concerned him more, “But I need the top part of your suit off.”

One eyebrow arched despite how a red flush started running up his neck and into the very beard she was wanting to groom. “… Why?”

“Well, your collar goes pretty high, so it’ll be easier if it’s not in the way.”

There was a lump in his throat. He glanced away from her, trying to determine if this was just another one of her jokes or if she was serious. After all, the hair on his neck didn’t go _that_ far down, but…

“I can turn away or leave the room if you need to change,” she added.

“No, no, it’s alright,” he said after a moment, then sat up straight so he was no longer leaning against the back of the seat. “I typically wear undershirts. I just… wasn’t expecting to…” he cleared his throat.

“I get it,” she said, her eyes dropping to watch his fingers work at unbuckling his collar. “That’s why I said it might seem weird.”

Maxson’s eyes remained on her face, though hers stayed with his hands as he undid another buckle, then pulled the zipper on his suit down to his navel. There was a plain white shirt beneath it, so it kept his chest from being bare; and as he slid his suit down his shoulders, then to his hips where he tied the arms off and left it, he saw how her eyes slowly raked over him.

“Better?” he asked.

She’d pulled her lower lip between her teeth and chewed on it as she kept looking him over, but his voice caught her attention, eyes flicking up to meet his gaze. “Yes. Thank you. Can you spread your knees for me, too, please?”

There was another moment of hesitation, but he obeyed, spreading his legs, and Nora stepped between them, her body close to his as she laid the towel across his chest. Her hands then moved to his beard, fingers running through it to brush it out, and he had to stop himself from nearly purring at the feeling and allowing his eyes to close; he kept focusing on her face.

His nerves were nearly vibrating beneath his skin with anxiety, though, as he was unsure if he was truly willing to let her trim his beard since it allowed direct access to his neck—such a vulnerable place. One quick slice was all it’d take to end him, and she’d be able to walk right off his ship before anyone even found out.

After grabbing the scissors off the table, she moved them toward his face, and he felt his heart increase in speed. 

But she… trimmed his beard, just like she said she would. Nora started with the hair on his left cheek, trimming and shaping it before running her fingers through that side, then moving on to the other. With his right side, she was more delicate and gentler, though he assumed that was due to the scar that was gifted to him by a mother deathclaw when he was just a teenager, the feature beginning just beneath his right eye and extending down into his beard.

What did she think of it? Did it disgust her? Or was it just another feature on a postwar man’s face in a crowd?

Both cheeks were trimmed, and she brushed them out to determine that the lengths were even, only then moving on to his chin.

Despite how her eyes were focused on her hands, Arthur couldn’t keep himself from staring at her, watching as she worked, listening to a soft hum escape her while she seemed entranced in what she was doing. Really, he could have looked away at any time—could have looked anywhere else—but that would have required him to either turn his head or look directly at her chest, which was almost in his face as they stood so close.

The urge to wrap his arms around her thighs and pull her against him was… astronomical; he wanted to close that small gap between their bodies and feel every inch of her pressed into him.

But he didn’t—he just sat there and let her work.

And once she finished trimming, she brushed his beard out again with her fingers, though this time it seemed… different. Her hands were so soft against his skin, her thumbs just barely brushing over his cheeks right above where his facial hair started. She worked her way back, her fingers eventually by his ears where she grazed over the lobes.

Maxson couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and relishing in the feeling.

The General pulled away after a moment, gently picking up the towel that had been placed on his chest to catch the clipped hair, then bundled it up and set it on the table.

“Do you have a clean cup? Mug, glass, whatever?” she asked.

His eyes opened and he looked to her, blinking a few times to regain himself before nodding and motioning over to his desk. “Any of those are clean,” he mumbled.

Nora stepped away from him and grabbed a mug and a glass from his desk, then moved toward the bathroom, picking up the straight razor and brush along the way. That same soft hum sang sweetly from the open doorway, and he allowed his body to relax at its sound.

It didn’t take her long to do whatever she needed to in there, and she was soon back with him—the mug in one hand with the brush inside it as she stirred, the glass with water in it pressed between her arm and chest, and the straight razor folded up between her fingers.

She set everything on the table and grabbed the second towel, folding it and placing it on one of his shoulders, then picked the mug back up and stirred whatever was in it a little more before pulling the brush out—it was covered in a lather.

Her foot tapped the outside of one of his and he obediently closed his legs as if obeying an order from a commanding officer. But when she straddled him, her ass seated just before his knees, the thoughts he’d had of her over the past week flooded his mind once again. 

Arthur could not, for the life of him, figure out what her game was.

“Can you tip your head back for me?” she asked, her voice quiet; gentle.

He obliged, tipping his head back just enough, and the first touch of the lathered brush against his skin had him startling, settling soon after. A quiet noise escaped her, something similar to a laugh, but she didn’t tease nor taunt him, choosing not to be the tantalizing woman he’d come to know her as, instead focusing on running the lather along his neck and throat where she planned to shave.

The General set the mug down on the table without getting up since it was close enough, then carefully picked up the straight razor and turned back to him while opening it.

His heart started racing, but it was when the razor was lifted to his neck that he panicked, roughly grabbing her wrist before she brought it any closer. Their eyes met and he expected some sort of confusion or disappointment or judgment, but she only stared back at him with an expression he couldn’t quite describe. Understanding, perhaps?

They sat still for a few more moments, his breathing slightly increased as he inhaled and exhaled through his nose, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. And when he finally released her wrist, the slight smile that had been on her face broadened, though it was nowhere near the grins he’d seen her bare before.

“Trust me,” she cooed. 

He wasn’t sure if it was her words, her soft touch, or her presence overall, but Maxson swallowed hard before tipping his chin up again, giving her access to the area that she wanted despite how his mind told him to buck her off and kick her out—to do anything but make himself vulnerable.

Yet, she was gentle when she touched him. Her free hand slid to his ear, thumb brushing over the lobe when the razor was pressed to one side of his neck—his breath hitched as his mind expected the worst—and slid upward, against the grain.

That same soft hum he’d heard from her twice now started again, some tune he vaguely recognized, though this time it was a little quieter. It was a comforting sound that allowed his mind to relax, focusing on the music and how her fingers were still by his ear, just gently caressing along the lobe and shell as if she knew it would help calm him.

But it only calmed certain parts of him while others reacted much differently.

Arthur wasn’t sure when his hands found her thighs, but she didn’t falter nor pause, just focused on her work as she wiped the blade off on the towel before continuing, repeating the process along his neck and throat, as well as his cheeks, until, finally, she was finished. The towel was wiped along his neck, cleaning off any remaining lather, and both items were placed on the table beside him.

His eyes opened as he looked to her, though she hadn’t left his lap despite seemingly finished with her goal. Instead, she ran her fingers through his beard again, studying the coarse hair to ensure it was to her liking—was it? It must have been since she gave a satisfied look. 

Nora leaned to the side and dipped her hand into the glass of water, pulling it back out wet and rubbing her hands together to spread the liquid along both, repeating the action before she was running wet fingers through his beard. She did it a few more times, as well, ensuring his beard was damp all over, then grabbed the bottle from where she’d left it.

It was unmarked, but the second she opened it, the smell of mutfruit filled his nose. He watched as she poured a small amount of it onto her fingers, setting the bottle down before rubbing her hands together, then thoroughly running them through his beard to spread whatever it was along the coarse hairs. The smell was even stronger, especially when her thumbs ran along his mustache, but he didn’t mind—it was familiar and now associated with her.

She brushed his beard down again before settling her arms on his shoulders, her fingers once again at his earlobes, gently touching. 

The touching, the closeness, the mere sight of her—Arthur was pulsing in his suit. His cock was hard and had been since she first stood between his legs, but with how he was sitting up straight, it meant she likely wouldn’t have noticed.

Not easily, at least.

“Looks better,” she quietly said, her smile widening to be a bit more like the grins he was familiar with. “Cleaner, neater. I think you’ll like it.”

Maxson swallowed hard again, his heart racing like before. “Thank you,” he whispered, though his voice nearly cracked like a teenage boy going through puberty.

_Embarrassing._

Nora shifted forward just slightly and he was almost inclined to lean his upper half back and away from her despite how that meant his erection would be much more visible. Yet, he couldn’t settle on if that urge was strictly because it meant she would notice or because he didn’t want to be so close.

“Do you want to have dinner with me?” she offered.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah. You know, the stuff that people eat at night.”

Her joke made him flush and he cleared his throat again. “I think that would be fine, yes.”

Freckled cheeks were just slightly distorted from a wide smile. “Okay, good. Let’s have it here next week. Danse will cook.”

He started to nod, but stopped himself as her eyes slowly dropped, dragging down his chest until she was looking right between their bodies. Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat once again and he couldn’t help when he looked down, as well, zeroing in on his erection before raising his eyes back to her just as she looked at him again, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

She had to have seen it; there was no way she didn’t. And yet, she never commented on how he was pressed against his suit and straining for her attention.

“Wear something nice, will you? Jeans are fine. Just not the suit.”

Maxson nodded again, complying, silently promising he’d change his attire for her. She smiled in appreciation, and he soon realized she was leaning in a little more—he had no more room to pull away.

“Keep the beard stuff,” she whispered. “I don’t need it.”

Something in his chest tightened. “Okay. Thank you.”

The same eyes he’d thought about staring up at him from between his legs were instead staring at him from his lap, and one of her hands slid away from his ear and to the back of his neck as she leaned in a bit more. She glanced down to his lips—he was sure of it this time—before returning her gaze to his face.

She was so close, and he was almost certain she was going to kiss him—almost certain she’d press their lips together, especially now that she was able to meet his height since they were both sitting. His heart nearly skipped a beat, cock throbbing in his suit, and he had to resist the urge to pull her onto it just to feel her.

But even in her slow movements, she teased him.

Nora leaned a bit to the side, bypassing whatever kiss he could have hoped for and instead pressed soft lips against his cheek, just above where his facial hair started. She didn’t pull away at first, even after her lips broke from his skin, their faces remaining less than an inch from one another as her eyes opened and locked with his.

He so badly wanted to thread his fingers into her hair and pull her into a kiss, to grab her by the back of her neck and pull her against him, but he did no such thing— _coward_ —and just watched her. Yet, while his hands had been on her thighs before, they gradually slid up to her hips, his fingers nearly digging into her skin through the fabric of her clothing.

She slowly swept her tongue over her bottom lip, and he couldn’t stop himself from watching before looking back at her—her smile now replaced by a grin.

“Until next time, Elder,” she whispered.

He expected her to leave then, knowing that was her usual goodbye, but she was not quick to remove herself from his lap. The hand on the back of his neck slid to his ear again, and just as he was focused on the feeling, she was leaning in once more, though this time her lips pressed against his own, finally granting him the kiss he’d been craving moments before.

It was slow, and it was gentle, and she did not pull away for a couple seconds, allowing him to relish in the feeling of her soft lips contrasting with his chapped ones; but once she did, he was left breathless, his face flushed, and wanting more.

 _Craving_ more.

Nora’s tongue ran over her bottom lip again and he, once more, watched it, before she pushed herself out of his lap and to her feet. His hands fell free from her hips and to his groin, discreetly covering himself from view, but she didn’t look back at him, instead making her way to the door—only giving a quick glance over her shoulder before slipping out.

She’d already said her goodbye, so she had no reason to repeat it or say anything more.

But her absence left him alone and silent and _craving._

A slow exhale was released from between his lips, one of relief, as he deflated in his chair before grabbing his cock through his suit. He was still hard and aching, and he knew his thoughts about her tonight would continue, albeit differently than before. The mere idea of touching himself to the thought of her again had him rubbing himself through his clothing—

The door abruptly opened, and Nora stepped back inside. Maxson bolted upright, eyes wide, as he released his cock and tried to cover himself again; he watched her step toward the table and grab her hat off it, placing it on her head.

“Sorry, forgot my hat,” she murmured—but her eyes looked him up and down again as that familiar grin stretched across her face; he couldn’t help but wonder if it was with appraisal or something else.

He was soon alone again, the door shut once more, but he hesitated before relaxing in his chair again.

_Tantalizing._

No. 

Accurate, but still not right.


	4. Odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can find so many words that accurately describe her, yet none of them seem to be the _right_ one.”
> 
> “I suppose that makes sense,” Danse agreed. “She is different.”
> 
> There was a nod. “Yes. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and it is… frustrating.”

Tomorrow.

Dinner with General Parker was scheduled for tomorrow.

Arthur was trying to get ahead in his work by going through the stacks of reports that were piled on his table and desk, knowing he’d have less time to do it the next day, but he had the same report in his hand for the past ten minutes as his mind just wouldn’t focus on anything other than the General and what she might have planned for them.

He needed a break.

Maybe a drink and a cigarette.

But a quiet knock on his door grabbed his attention before he even had the chance to get up.

“Come in.”

The person who entered his room was someone he’d been expecting to see some time over the past week, but the fact it wasn’t until now that he was approached unnerved him. Had Nora instructed the man not to speak to Arthur until now? Why would any of his soldiers listen to _her_ on when to approach their Elder?

“Elder Maxson,” Danse greeted as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Paladin Danse. What can I do for you?” It was played off as if he hadn’t expected his longtime friend’s company. It would be… easier.

“If you’re busy, I can come back later,” the older man remarked, glancing down to the report in Maxson’s hands.

Arthur set the clipboard down on the table. He’d reread the same paragraph at least five times and hadn’t even digested a single sentence, so there was no reason to read it a sixth. “No, no, not at all. Please, have a seat.”

As Danse sat, the Elder stood and went to his desk, snatching a pack of cigarettes and a flip lighter as well as pouring them both a glass of whiskey each, taking one to his friend and placing the other on the table by his own seat before sitting back down. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

_Yes._ “Hm? Why should I be excited?” Arthur asked while pulling a cigarette from the pack and raising it to his lips to light it.

The look on Danse’s face said he wasn’t buying the act, though.

“Come on, Arthur,” his friend started, dropping any bit of formality since they were alone. He hadn’t taken a drink yet though his hand was still holding onto the glass as it was set on the table. “If I have to hear about everything that she does and thinks about from _her,_ then you might as well tell me your side, too.”

Nora was telling Danse… everything? _Everything?_

Even how she’d very clearly looked at his—

The cigarette was lit and Maxson took a drag, inhaling the smoke before letting it release through his nose as the stick was pulled away from his mouth, resting between his index and middle fingers while he leaned back in his seat. “I suppose I am… looking forward to it,” he finally admitted.

“I would hope so. She’s been pining after you since she laid her eyes on you.”

“… ‘Pining’?”

“She likes you.”

“… Ah.”

Danse arched one eyebrow. “Nora clearly has a thing for you, Arthur. Do you really not see that?”

The Elder’s face flushed, and he looked away, the fingers on his free hand tapping against his thigh. “I’m, uh, not sure that’s true. She seems to take everything as a joke, and that’s likely the case here.”

A frustrated groan escaped the older man and he let go of his glass, his hand lifting to rub at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s not a joke. Trust me. I’m the one who has to listen to her talk about you, and some of the things she says…” His voice trailed off and his face crinkled into something that resembled disgust. “The woman has no filter and no shame whatsoever.”

So, she _did_ tell him everything. “… What does she say about me?”

“Oh, no, I’m not repeating any of that. You can ask her yourself.”

Arthur grunted lightly, taking another drag of his cigarette before running his free hand through his beard, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he did. “She’s very…”

“Odd? Weird? Strange? Unordinary?”

He hummed, thinking for a moment. _”’The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter. ‘tis the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning.’”_

“Is that Twain?”

The Elder nodded. “I can find so many words that accurately describe her, yet none of them seem to be the _right_ one.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Danse agreed. “She is different.”

There was another nod. “Yes. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and it is… frustrating.”

Maxson watched as a small smile broke the older man’s face. “It is. Nora is exhausting to be around for long periods of time, I must admit, but you do get used to her after a while.”

That made him pause. “Why is she exhausting?”

But that was when Danse _laughed._ “I wasn’t used to her personality. She jokes a lot, yeah, but I think that’s some sort of coping mechanism. We both know she’s lost a lot—her husband, her son, her life before the bombs—and it seems like she’s just sort of going through life the best way she knows how.” He shrugged. “We argued a lot at first because I didn’t really know how to deal with her, but she still kept me around, and now we get along just fine. But she’s still… exhausting. She’s outgoing and fiery and touchy-feely and has no boundaries or shame. But, honestly, you get used to it.”

Arthur had learned the General was, in fact, very touchy-feely while at the castle when she’d grabbed his hand, taking him up to see the mortars, and again when she’d tugged him around by his coat to see the rest of the area. He’d learned she’d had no shame when they were trapped in the closet at the hospital with her ass pressed against him while she was nearly _grinding_ on him, only to later on make a comment about how she was _’looking forward to getting stuck in a closet with him again.’_ And even more, he’d learned she’d had no boundaries when she’d trimmed his beard and shaved his neck just last week while sitting in his lap, eventually looking down at his erection.

But would he actually get used to it? To _her?_

“She wants me to wear _’something nice,’”_ he added. “Not my flight suit.”

“I figured.”

Maxson arched one eyebrow at his friend as he took another drag of his cigarette. “What do you mean _’you figured’?”_

“Like I said, Arthur: I have to hear all her thoughts, especially the ones about you.”

He pursed his lips. Had she told Danse she’d looked at Arthur’s ass before, like she’d hinted at when they were in the hospital clearing out synths? When she’d mentioned how his ass wouldn’t fit through the small opening in the door?

“Regardless, I’m not sure what to wear.”

“Are you really going to make me pick your outfit for you?”

“That is _not_ what I—”

“Jesus, Arthur,” the older man groaned before getting up and moving over to the dresser in the room.

The Elder watched with a furrowed brow as Danse opened the drawers in his dresser and started sifting through folded clothes, beginning with jeans. He pulled out a few pairs, setting them on the table, and then went to shirts. Arthur didn’t really have a whole lot of clothes outside of his flight suits, but Danse grabbed what he wanted, anyway, and soon narrowed it all down until he settled on a single outfit—a pair of dark jeans and a dark grey V-neck shirt.

“Alright, this should work,” the Paladin determined, putting everything back in the dresser aside from the chosen outfit, which he left on the table. “She’ll appreciate it.”

“So, I’m wearing it _for her?”_

Danse gave him a look. “You really think she’s not about to dress up _for you?”_

That… was a good point. She’d asked him to wear something nice, the _’for me’_ being unspoken but inferred. It was fair to assume she’d be doing the same—though what she’d wear was beyond him.

“Trim the beard, too.”

Maxson upturned his lip. _”Why?_ I just trimmed it—in fact, _she_ trimmed it last week.”

“Trust me, Arthur. Trim it short. Doesn’t need to be stubble, just short.”

This was ridiculous. Was Danse insinuating Arthur needed to change to make himself more appealing to Nora for whatever reason when he wasn’t even convinced that she actually _liked_ him? Or was Nora _requesting_ that he make these changes via Danse? 

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbled.

“Good. And, by the way… how she shaved it looks good.”

His free hand raised to his throat, fingers running along the edge of his beard, where his head connected with his neck. Before last week, Arthur had never really worried about shaving the edge of his beard, though any time he had, he’d typically let it grow further down. Still, he had to admit that it _did_ look better; cleaner. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Alright, so, I’ll have something cooked up for you both to eat soon after she arrives for your date—”

_”Date?”_

Danse stared at him.

“… Nevermind.”

“Anyway,” the Paladin drawled, “I’ll also make sure you’re not, uh, _disturbed.”_

_Disturbed!?_

“Then again, I’m not sure she’d let anything stop her.”

Arthur bristled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as many of you have probably figured out, i am very political. in fact, my political beliefs are often found in my writing with certain characters. for those of you who follow me on twitter, you've seen my politics first hand. that said, i feel it is important to bring your attention to a cause that is happening at this very moment.
> 
> right now, there are protests happening around the united states (and the world). they are in response to police brutality and in memory of george floyd, breonna taylor, tony mcdade, and all other black men and women who have been killed and harmed at the hands of police. it is extremely important to support the protests and protesters. if you, yourself, are unable to be in the streets for whatever reason, there are still plenty of ways you can help; here is a good twitter thread to guide you: [click here.](https://twitter.com/gendervamp/status/1267187714052349953?s=20) (i don't recommend having anyone put personal information on their skin, however. put it in your phone/somewhere else it cannot be easily accessed.)
> 
> please note these protests are not related to my writing. i do not benefit from them nor anything in that link, but i do acknowledge that this is an important cause that must be supported and i am urging everyone to do that, regardless of how you support it. i am also not encouraging anyone to do anything illegal.
> 
> remember: until black lives matter, no lives matter. until brown lives matter, no lives matter. this is a struggle everyone must come together to support.


	5. Bizarre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you think of me a lot today?”
> 
> He swallowed hard and nodded, looking down again. “Yes. I did.”
> 
> “Do you usually think of me a lot?”
> 
> His mouth went dry, but he could tell she was still intently watching him, almost daring him to lie.
> 
> But as bizarre as she was, he just couldn’t. “Yes. I do.”

Arthur paced his quarters as anxiety pulsed through his veins, threatening to give him a damn heart attack if he didn’t find a way to calm down. General Parker would arrive at any moment; she’d walk through the door to join him for dinner—something _she’d_ scheduled in _his_ quarters while inviting _him_ to join her—and they’d have… a date.

At least that was what Danse had called it.

But… Arthur wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for that. Besides, was it really even a date? Did Nora actually see him that way? Sure, she’d _looked_ at him in certain ways that he’d only recently come to understand as something more than friendly; and sure, she’d made comments here and there that definitely could have been interpreted in a specific light as sexual, but they were… jokes. Right? She wasn’t _seriously_ considering him, was she?

This was just dinner between leaders. Allies. _Friends,_ even. Nothing more.

Fuck, this woman was bizarre. He needed a drink already.

But just as soon as he started toward his desk to pour himself a glass of whiskey, the bulkhead to his room opened and in walked the woman he’d been fretting over for weeks.

Arthur spun around, a lump finding itself in his throat as his eyes landed on Nora Parker. She wasn’t wearing her usual clothing—jeans and a t-shirt—but instead had a long, black coat that was buttoned in the front and fell all the way down to mid-calf. His gaze slowly dropped to the bottom of it, seeing some of her bare legs, only to notice she also wasn’t wearing boots.

Instead, she was wearing heels.

 _Red_ heels.

His mouth went dry.

“Arthur,” she greeted, grabbing his attention so his eyes returned to her face.

“Ah… Nora. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

He watched as her own eyes dropped from his face, slowly sliding down and hovering on his upper chest, seemingly where the dip in his V-neck was at. He knew some chest hair peeked out from the shirt, which might have been what she was focused on, but her gaze only remained there for a brief moment before continuing down, down, down his body, then back up to his face.

“I like the outfit. Looks really good on you,” she complimented.

A flush ran up his neck and cheeks. “Thank you,” he murmured.

But she wasn’t done. Slowly, Nora approached him, and he could only watch as the distance between them closed, the soft clicking of her heels traveling along the metal floor nearly echoing in his ears; she stopped once there were only a few mere inches between their bodies. The movement of her arm was just as slow, her fingers gently touching his jaw before running along the shortened hairs of his beard—he had trimmed it shorter as Danse suggested, though kept to the same shaved lines as she’d done—while a grin stretched across her freckled cheeks.

“Really like the beard, too.”

 _Fuck._ The room was getting hot. “Thank you,” he repeated, this time as a whisper.

Her tongue ran over her bottom lip and he couldn’t stop himself from watching it before returning his gaze to her face, and her grin grew even wider. “You do that for me?” she asked, her thumb running over his jaw just as it tensed.

Arthur swallowed hard. “Would you, ah… like a drink, General?” 

A quiet noise escaped her, almost a hum, before her hand dropped. “Have any red wine?”

 _Of course_ she wanted wine, because why wouldn’t she? “I do,” he answered slowly before stepping away, a slow exhale that was damn near close to a sigh of relief escaping his nose as he went to his desk. He grabbed two glasses and two bottles—one whiskey and one red wine—then turned around to carry them to the table; but as soon as his eyes settled on her again, Maxson stopped in his tracks.

Her coat was off, having been folded and set on the opposite end of the table, revealing what she had on beneath it, and it had his lips parting, jaw nearly dropped.

Nora wore a red dress that was almost the color crimson, the damn thing snug in every aspect and hugging all the right places. Thin straps went over her freckled shoulders and the front was low-cut, showing _a lot_ of freckled cleavage while pushing her breasts up. The bottom of it went down to just above mid-thigh and there was a slit on the side of her left leg that went straight up to her hip, revealing even more skin. _Fuck,_ he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

He had no idea how long he was staring by the time she finally spoke, but her words were _teasing,_ and they made his entire face feel like he’d entered the depths of hell.

“Let me know when you’re done gawking so I can sit down.”

Arthur’s jaw audibly snapped shut, his teeth clicking together, and he tore his eyes away from her, clearing his throat. “My—my apologies, General. You just, ah… you look very nice.”

“Yeah? You like the dress, huh?”

His brows furrowed but he refused to look at her or answer her, though he could hear her heels slowly clicking along the metal floor as she approached him again. And when she stopped right in front of him, he could see her face in his peripheral vision—she was biting her bottom lip.

“Play your cards right and it’ll be on the floor later.”

Something in his stomach twisted.

She gave him no chance to respond before she was gently taking one of the glasses and the bottle of wine from his hands, then turning around to walk to the seat diagonally to the left of the one he usually sat at.

Was she swaying her hips? _Fuck._

There was a knock on the door, though Danse didn’t wait for him to give permission before walking in, a large tray carrying two plates covered by bowls held against his hip and a towel over his shoulder. The Paladin stepped into the room, setting the tray on one end of the table before picking up both plates, setting one in front of Nora and the other in front of Arthur as the Elder took his seat.

“What are we eating, Danse?” Nora asked.

“Deathclaw steak in caramelized brahmin butter sauce with wheatgrain spaghetti in white sauce and a side of silt beans,” he answered while pulling the bowls off both plates.

Really, Arthur knew Danse enjoyed cooking, but he wasn’t aware his friend was _that_ into it. Nora must have learned the fact while they were out on their travels—but Arthur and Danse hadn’t been out on a mission in so long…

“That’s… impressive, Paladin,” Maxson mumbled, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you, Sir,” Danse beamed. “I hope you both enjoy it.” He set down some cutlery next to the plates before moving toward the door. “Don’t worry about bringing the plates or anything back to the mess. Leave them here until morning, that way you have some privacy.”

Maxson’s eyes grew wide as he made eye contact with his friend, though Danse’s face remained expressionless as he gave the Elder a thumbs up; and one quick glance to Nora said she was trying to repress a smile, her lips nearly smushed together in the process.

“Enjoy,” the Paladin reiterated before slipping out.

The room was quiet as soon as the door shut, Arthur’s eyes falling to his plate as he started cutting into his food. Nora’s attention was on her own food, as well, though she was mostly picking at it. 

The silence was… awkward.

Arthur cleared his throat. “So, how was, ah… how was your day?”

She turned her gaze over to him, blinking a few times. “My…? Oh. You’re trying to small talk, aren’t you?”

He pursed his lips but she just grinned.

“My day has been good so far, but there’s still a lot of it left.”

The _implications…_

“What about yours?” she asked.

“Ah… so far, so good,” he answered quietly, his eyes remaining on his food as he cut up some of the deathclaw steak. “Caught up on the stacks of reports I had.”

“Mhm. What else?”

“That was… really it.”

“You think of me a lot?”

Maxson’s eyes snapped up to her. “… Excuse me?”

Whereas Nora usually would have made him think she’d said something else—he was _certain_ she always lied when she did that—she was now just staring at him, repeating what she’d really said. “Did you think of me a lot today?”

He swallowed hard and nodded, looking down again. “Yes. I did.”

“Do you usually think of me a lot?”

His mouth went dry, but he could tell she was still intently watching him, almost daring him to lie.

But as bizarre as she was, he just couldn’t. “Yes. I do.”

“What do you think about?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Do you have any more mortars up, General?” he asked, trying to change the subject as his eyes remained focused on his plate.

“Arthur,” she said gently. Fuck, his face must have been tato red. “Look at me.”

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to her until their eyes locked.

“I think about you.” There was a lump in his throat and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “You know I’ve been flirting with you, right? That I’ve been coming onto you?”

Her words were so quiet that he was trying to doubt that he’d heard them, but he knew she was speaking loud enough for them to be clear. Arthur could only nod his head. “Yes.”

A small smile broke her lips; it was so different compared to the wide grins he was used to seeing. “And do you know I want to fuck you?”

His breath hitched in his throat and it was that time he couldn’t answer, but she must not have needed an answer, because he watched as she slowly stood and made her way over to him, closing the gap between their chairs—there wasn’t much of one, anyway—and literally _forced_ her way into his lap. There was enough room between his body and the table for her to squeeze.

Maxson’s eyes remained on her face as she slid into his lap, facing him just as she had when she’d shaved his neck, though this time she sat much further up his legs, her core almost directly over his groin. Almost immediately, he was growing hard—then again, he’d been at least semi-hard since she’d touched his face earlier—and his hands found the outside of her thighs, rough palms on her bare skin as her dress slid up her legs a little.

Her eyes glanced down to his mouth.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Nora whispered. “I’ve touched myself to the thought of you.”

Fuck.

He felt himself _pulse_ in his jeans.

“What did, uh,” he cleared his throat, “What did these thoughts… consist of?”

That familiar grin stretched across her freckled cheeks. “Your hands all over me. Your face between my legs. You fucking me so hard that I’m screaming your name.”

Her hands went to his chest, slowly sliding up to his shoulders, before he felt her fingers slide along his jaw and back to his ears just like she had when she trimmed his beard. Part of him missed having her fingers thread into it since it was too short now, but just having her touch his face was still incredible.

“Does any of that sound appealing to you?”

Arthur nodded a bit too quickly—too eagerly. “Yeah.”

Her grin widened and she leaned in a little more, glancing down to his mouth again before she pressed their lips together. Just like last week, it was gentle; she took her time, almost teasing him, and he felt himself growing desperate with each passing second.

Nora’s hands slid away from his ears and up to his cheeks, cupping his face just before she pulled away—as if she _knew_ he would trail after her so she was holding him back—though she didn’t go very far, her lips less than an inch from his own. She swept her tongue across her bottom one before she shifted her hips a little further up his thighs, directly over where his cock was straining against his jeans; the mere pressure had him sucking a hissing inhale between his teeth.

“You can touch me,” she whispered.

She didn’t need to say anything more, because the second she gave him permission, Arthur’s hands were slowly sliding up her bare thighs, slipping beneath her dress—but the second he made it to her hips, only to find no other type of fabric, it struck him like a fusion train.

She wasn’t wearing underwear.

Oh, fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, life has sucked lately.


	6. Indescribable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you look so worried?”
> 
> That familiar voice he’d been craving to hear screaming his name was just a foot away and Arthur raised his head just in time to see her slowly pushing her dress down her body, leaving it in a pile on the floor while she had nothing left but those red heels on.
> 
> _”Play your cards right and it’ll be on the floor later.”_
> 
> What cards had he even played?

Their lips were pressed together in another slow, gentle kiss that had him feeling just as desperate as before, though that might have also been because Nora was gradually rolling her hips back and forth, grinding herself against his clothed erection, nearly leaving him panting.

He'd long forgotten about dinner and he suspected she might have done the same.

By the time the kiss was broken, they were both breathless and her face was tinted pink—he couldn’t help but devour the sight.

“I like being manhandled,” she whispered. “Being picked up and grabbed and thrown around. You’re a lot bigger than me… I want you to be rough.”

Her words went straight to his groin.

“What do you like?”

“I’m, ah… not picky,” Arthur murmured. “I haven’t done anything too, uh… too crazy before.”

Nora sat back a little and studied him while her thumb traced over the long scar on his right cheek; he had to resist leaning into her touch. “I see,” she mumbled, but it almost sounded like she was _suspicious._

There was no time for him to think on her tone, however, because she leaned in and kissed him once more, though it was brief, her lips then trailing away from his mouth and moving down his jaw toward the side of his neck until she was pressing soft kisses along the line his beard was shaved—where his head connected with his neck, the exact place she’d instructed him to start shaving it. Maxson immediately tipped his head back and bared the area to her, allowing her lips to place kisses along it before trailing them inward toward his throat, coaxing a low noise from him.

With his hands still beneath her dress, they slid from her bare hips back to her bare ass, grasping the cheeks he’d thought about grabbing and smacking for weeks now. Nora made a small noise of appreciation against his neck just before he felt her tongue slide along the column of his throat, followed by her teeth latching onto the same section of skin while she simultaneously sucked it into her mouth.

“Oh, _fuck.”_

He was a goner, nearly melting in his chair as he became a moaning mess beneath her, entirely weak and at her mercy.

Once she released his neck, he knew there was already a bruise forming on his skin in a spot that everyone would see, just above the collar of his jumpsuit—and maybe that was her goal all along: to let everyone know she’d had him, that she’d _claimed_ him.

Neither of them even had their clothes off and yet she’d already marked him as hers.

The mere thought had his stomach twisting with arousal.

Nora dragged the flat of her tongue along the blossoming mark, then trailed open-mouthed kisses down to the part of his clavicle that was visible from his V-neck, her tongue teasing along the line of the collar while she slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and ran them up his bare sides. Her palms and fingers felt amazing against his skin—so damn soft and prewar and free of calluses, much unlike his own—as they slid up his body, pushing his shirt up and tugging it off.

His shirt was uncaringly thrown to the side while she pulled away, her eyes then falling upon his bare chest and stomach, and he almost sat upright as if she was suddenly appraising him but convinced himself to remain still, instead. Waiting. For what, he was unsure—perhaps her final judgment.

Arthur’s chest and stomach were covered in thick, dark hair that dipped down into his jeans while his skin was marred from past battles fought and won in the name of the Brotherhood. She’d seen the trophies embedded on his face but had yet to see the ones beneath his clothes—until now.

His upper half held the worst of his past exploits in the field: faded pink and silver lines drawn up and down his chest, arms, and back from enemies that had gotten much too close; a long, thin slash curved around from the middle of his back to his right hip; four claw marks from a yao guai peeked out from his chest hair on his right pectoral; a plasma burn on his left shoulder blade extended up to the top of his shoulder; and so many more. Puckered skin colored salmon pink that had once been bullet holes were scattered in a few different areas—one on his right shoulder, one on his left hip, and one on his right upper thigh that was much too close to his groin.

Really, he’d often worried others would find his overly-damaged body less attractive, but if the look on Nora’s face was anything to go by, especially from what he’d learned about basic facial expressions and from how she’d acted around him—blown pupils, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, cheeks tinted pink—she must have approved; not to mention that her hands found their way to his stomach, slowly sliding upward so her fingers threaded into his chest hair.

“You are so fucking hot,” she whispered.

A flush ran up his neck and face.

“God. Look at you. How have you not fucked anyone yet?”

“I—what—what do you—”

The General’s eyes flicked up to his face while her palms settled on his chest. “You don’t need to lie to me, Arthur. Being a virgin isn’t a bad thing.”

Maxson swallowed hard and tore his gaze from her, shame washing over his face despite her reassuring words. “It’s… complicated.”

“You at least know how it works, right?”

If glares could kill, she would have died ten times over within half a second. “I’m not an idiot, Nora.”

Of course, a wide grin stretched across her face, which must have meant she was teasing him. Again. He should have expected it.

“Relax,” she drawled, her hands sliding back down his torso until she was at his jeans, her fingers working the button and popping it open, then ever-so-slowly pulling the zipper down. “I’m only joking. But let me make it up to you.” His zipper was pulled down all the way. “Scoot your chair back for me.”

As soon as she stood up, Arthur did as she said by scooting his chair back and even turning it to the side some, then watched as she slowly sank to her knees in front of him. He’d thought of this very situation countless times—her between his legs, sucking his cock—and it had him rock hard and pulsing in his jeans, expectant for what was to come. But when she went straight to unlacing his boots, he just… blinked, caught off guard. It wasn’t what he expected, but he let her do her thing, still watching and waiting as she unlaced one and pulled it and his sock off, then did the same for the other, setting both aside before her attention was fully on him again.

Her palms went to his knees, gradually sliding up his thighs as she leaned in to place gentle kisses along his bare stomach while her fingers hooked around the hem of his jeans and boxer briefs, slowly pulling them down. Arthur lifted his hips to help and she tugged his clothes off his legs, throwing both items to the side before turning back to him, her eyes immediately dropping to look at where his cock was settled in the crook of his right hip and thigh—but it was then what seemed to be a look of surprise washed over her face.

“Jesus, Arthur,” she whispered.

Confusion and a tinge of worry flooded him. “What?”

She glanced up to his face and then back to his cock, one of her hands wrapping around his girth—but she couldn’t grab all of him. “I mean, I know I have small hands, but, uh…” Her tongue ran over her bottom lip. “Fuck. I’m not sure you’re gonna fit.”

He _pulsed._

Nora immediately looked up at him as soon as he did, their eyes locking, and there was a glint in her own. “You like that idea? Being too big for me?”

_Fuck._

Maxson swallowed hard but refused to answer, though his eyes never tore away from her. It felt wrong to admit that he did, in fact, like that he was bigger than her and that he might be _too_ big for her, and especially that he’d get to watch her stretch around every inch of him. He knew he was thicker than average, at least according to the prewar books he’d read, but…

“I’m sure we can make it work,” she quietly added, her hand slowly moving up and down his length. “I brought lube, anyway. Didn’t know if we’d need it.”

Fuck, he pulsed again. “You came, ah… you came prepared,” he observed.

That familiar wide grin stretched across her face. “I’ve been dying to fuck you since I first laid eyes on you, Arthur Maxson. But you’re so damn oblivious.”

He made a quiet noise as his eyes dropped, focusing on where her hand slowly stroked him, the movements almost teasing. “It is… not often someone comes onto me.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Oblivious,” she mumbled.

But before he could protest that he was _not_ oblivious and that people just _didn’t_ flirt with him, she was pulling back his foreskin and sliding the head of his cock into her mouth. Maxson’s eyes fluttered shut as he released a quiet moan, and the General started slowly bobbing her head, taking in a little more of him each time, her hand following her mouth and spreading saliva down the part of his shaft that she wasn’t taking in.

When his eyes opened again, they locked onto hers, noticing that she was staring up at him, and he felt his stomach twist. She pulled back after a moment, letting his cock fall against his lower stomach as her palms went to his thighs while she dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft.

“Have you thought of me doing this to you before?” she asked before dragging her tongue back down from tip to base, then sucking one of his balls into her mouth.

Arthur took a hissing inhale between his teeth and nodded. “Yes,” he answered. “A lot.”

She made a quiet hum of appreciation and released him with a _pop_ before sucking the other one into her mouth, giving it the same treatment of rolling it along her tongue, then releasing it and licking up his shaft again. “Do you ever fuck my face in these thoughts you have of me?”

Taking his cock into her mouth again, she caved her cheeks and sucked hard while also bobbing her head; Maxson was trying to keep his eyes open but it was just _too damn good._

Still, he nodded to her question. “Yes.”

Another hum around him was made, the vibration sending shivers up his spine. She pulled off his cock, letting it fall against his stomach again. “Do you want to fuck my face _now?”_

He had to hold back a moan. “God, yes.”

That same grin stretched across her freckled cheeks, as expected, and Nora raised herself to her feet, gently taking one of his hands just as he also stood, then guided him toward the middle of the room. Once she had him where she wanted him, their bodies were firmly pressed together, lips briefly meeting before she started trailing kisses down to his collarbone—but he didn’t let her go any lower, instead wrapping one arm around her midsection and holding her against him, his other hand pushing the straps of her dress down.

Of course, she found it humorous, lightly laughing against him as she slipped the straps off, herself, and pushed the dress down to her waist so her tits were out. A light nip to his collarbone was made before she gently pushed his arm off and started lowering herself once more, trailing kisses down his body like she’d originally intended until she was crouched in front of him rather than on her knees like she’d been before—her red heels giving her a bit of a height boost—and once she was settled in that position, Nora took ahold of his cock and slipped it back into her mouth.

The feeling was better than anything he’d ever imagined, and he couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped his chest. The vault dweller’s hands roamed his body, sliding anywhere from his thighs to his hips to his stomach to his chest, her nails dragging along his skin and occasionally giving him a pang of pain that only added to the pleasure while she bobbed her head and sucked his cock.

She soon pulled off, licking her bottom lip as she looked up at him, one hand resting on his hip while the other wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking. “I can take most of what you dish out, so you can be rough. If it becomes too much, I’ll tap you three times.” She tapped his hip three times to demonstrate. “Okay?”

Arthur nodded, swallowing hard.

With a grin, Nora let go of his cock and opened her mouth, taking in not even half of his length; there was a notable difference in how it felt compared to before—her jaw was slack, her mouth was open wider than his girth, and her throat was opened up. She looked up at him, though, and gently took hold of both his hands, guiding one into her hair and the other to just beneath her chin before her own went to his hips, holding on.

Fuck.

He started off slow, mostly due to being unsure how fast he could move without hurting her or gagging her, but eventually became more confident in his movements and picked it up and was soon fucking her face.

And when he pulled her nose flush with his groin, forcing her to deepthroat him, a low moan bellowed from his chest as he felt her throat constricting around the head of his cock. She didn’t gag around him at first—he could feel her _swallowing,_ instead—but as soon as she did, he let her go, allowing her to pull away while she coughed and gasped for air. He thought she might have wanted to stop at that point, but when her tongue dragged over her bottom lip before she eagerly took him back into her mouth, he couldn’t stop himself from groaning.

Heat was rapidly coiling deep in his gut, and by the time he was at the edge, he was sweating and panting, his eyes closed, and head just slightly tipped back.

 _”Fuck,_ Nora. I’m close,” he breathed.

She tapped his hip three times.

Confusion washed over him, but he released her and pulled back, their eyes meeting.

“Cum on my face.”

The mere thought of stringing his spend all over her face had him eagerly nodding, unable to even speak. He’d imagined himself doing it plenty of times—coming on her face and seeing how damn _good_ it looked—but now he had the _opportunity._

His hand was back in her hair again, fingers threading into the red locks to hold her still while his other one went to his cock, quickly stroking. It took a bit longer since he’d abruptly stopped the stimulation, but as he focused on the head, twisting his wrist with each change of direction, he was soon coming and stringing his spend along her cheeks, chin, nose, and tongue while she had her mouth open and tongue stuck out.

Arthur’s eyes fell closed as he came despite his hardest attempts to keep them open, a low, breathy moan escaping during his climax. Once he finally finished, he was left panting, and Nora leaned forward just enough to slide the tip of his cock back into her mouth, lightly sucking; the Elder’s breath hitched in his throat as he looked down at her again, relishing in the view.

“Looks even better than I imagined,” he murmured.

Nora hummed around him before pulling off, then took ahold of his hand and used two of his fingers to wipe some of the cum from her face before slipping those same fingers into her mouth to suck them clean. It was… unexpected, but he eagerly took over, wiping each string of cum from her face and transferring it onto her tongue. And once it was all moved over, he watched as she swallowed it down, then showed him that her mouth was free of his spend.

 _Fuck._ This woman would be the death of him.

He helped her up before she disappeared into the bathroom to clean up and Arthur found himself collapsing onto the edge of the bed, a hand running through his hair.

Was this really happening?

He’d thought Nora was only playing with him since she’d never really seemed to take anything seriously, but, apparently, she really did want to fuck him—and now, here they were, fucking around in his quarters. She’d just sucked his cock and he had no doubt she’d want to take it a step further, but considering his lack of experience…

What if it was _terrible_ for her?

She’d already figured out he was a virgin, but she’d clearly had her share of experience in this department, so what if he was just one huge disappointment?

Arthur was a reader—a _bookworm,_ as some called it—and he’d read plenty of books that were considered… well, erotic, if not informative. He knew _what_ to do, and he had a decent idea on how to please a woman, but that was all described through text, so there was no hands-on experience.

What if he never brought her to climax? What if she’d gone through all this trouble and it was just _horrible_ for her?

“Why do you look so worried?”

That familiar voice he’d been craving to hear screaming his name was just a foot away and Arthur raised his head just in time to see her slowly pushing her dress down her body, leaving it in a pile on the floor while she had nothing left but those red heels on.

_”Play your cards right and it’ll be on the floor later.”_

What cards had he even played?

Still, never before had he thought shoes looked so damn good on someone until now.

“Ah… it’s—it’s nothing,” he murmured as she climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs. The Elder wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling back and onto the floor, his hands gripping her bare ass again.

Nora hummed softly before leaning down, her lips finding his collarbone and pressing a soft kiss, then slowly trailing them up to his throat, coaxing him to tip his chin up again as she placed gentle kisses along where he shaved his beard. “Don’t overthink this.”

He was about to protest, to say he _was not_ overthinking it, but he knew she was right—and he didn’t get the chance, anyway, because her teeth clipped his throat and sent a shiver down his spine while his breath hitched. How the hell did she _do_ that!?

“I’ll give you some advice, okay?” He just barely nodded. “Manhandle me,” she started, placing a soft kiss to the column of his throat, “Smack my ass.” There was another kiss, “Call me a _’good girl’_ when I do something you like,” and another, “Order me around.” Her tongue dragged along his throat. “Dirty talk, if you want.” She clipped his throat again and he sucked a hissing inhale between his teeth. “Let me be the one to ease your dick in.” A couple kisses were trailed up to his lips where she placed a single kiss that was held for a few seconds, only to break away, though her mouth hovered just over his. “But if you fuck me roughly, then I’ll take care of the rest, including screaming your name.”

Maxson’s stomach twisted and he felt himself growing hard again, that refractory period already passing.

“Sound good?” she asked.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Mm. I’m glad,” she replied, grinning again. “Lay back for me?”

Rather than immediately doing what she wanted, Arthur leaned in and captured her lips in another kiss, but at the same time, he wrapped one arm around her midsection and pulled her tightly against his chest while he shifted back on the bed to where they were laying down length-wise, carrying her with him so she was still atop his body, her hips still straddling his own.

He laid back and Nora ground herself against him, pressing her slit down on his cock— _fuck,_ he could feel how wet she was, her slick coating the underside of his shaft as it was pressed up against his belly. The feeling had him sucking a hissing inhale between his teeth again before he pulled her forward, jerking her abruptly so she gasped and caught herself on her hands on either side of him, her breasts suddenly in his face. Arthur then took advantage of the new position, releasing her from his hold and instead cupping her tits and groping them, his lips closing around one of her nipples so he could suck and bite until it pebbled.

The General held herself up on one hand, the other moving to his head, her fingers threading into his hair as she gasped. “Fuck, Arthur,” she breathed, and he couldn’t hold back the responding moan around her nipple before switching to the other, peaking both.

While his past thoughts of her typically consisted of a different position while doing this—usually him on top—he’d still often imagined himself teasing her tits this way: sucking and biting and groping while she gasped and moaned at his touches. And Nora had big tits, there was no hiding the fact no matter what she wore, though he’d often struggled to imagine exactly _how_ big they were compared to his hands. Now, though, as they were literally in his face and palms, he realized he couldn’t even fully grasp one.

“Can I sit on your face?”

Pausing, his eyes flicked up to her, being met by her own, and he allowed her nipple to fall free from his mouth with a quiet _pop._ “Sit on my…?”

“Yeah.”

_Oh._

He nodded, watching how she bit her bottom lip almost nervously—something he didn’t often see expressed from her—before she sat up straight again. She started climbing up his body, but the thought of how she enjoyed being manhandled was in the back of his mind, and Maxson took advantage of it with the hope to please her. He hooked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted her, yanking her up his body and toward his face; she squeaked in surprise and landed just below his neck, her hands grabbing onto the pillows to steady herself as she looked down at him with wide eyes.

“Thought you enjoyed being manhandled?” he asked, his voice teasing, almost adopting the tactic she commonly exhibited of using humor to mask anxiety.

“O-oh. I do, I just… wasn’t expecting it,” she quietly admitted.

A flush ran up her neck and face as she spoke, nearly hiding the dark freckles that were splashed across her nose and cheeks; it was cute, he had to admit. And catching her off guard was certainly a plus, too, because it must have meant he was doing something right. At least in this aspect.

He couldn’t stop the slight smirk that curved the left side of his mouth—but as soon as she saw it, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t get cocky, Maxson,” she hissed before shifting up toward his face again, soon kneeling over him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip.

With her pussy just over his face, it was the first time he actually got to see her. She was already glistening with slick, but on top of that, she was completely hairless. He knew it was common for people in the past to shave, but that seemed risky now due to not having proper access to safe razors and whatnot, though he didn’t really mind either way.

Still, he knew it was a possibility, and had even gone so far as to _trim himself_ for her tonight, which he’d never really bothered with before—though now he was wondering how in the world he’d go about shaving. Sure, he shaved his face and head with a straight razor, but he certainly didn’t trust shaving around his dick with one; and besides, was there even a point in shaving there when he had so much body hair, anyway?

“You sure you know what to do?”

Her voice was teasing and made him realize he’d just been sitting there staring at her a bit too long without actually doing anything by the time she questioned him; he shot her a glare, only to receive a grin in return.

He knew what he was doing.

Mostly.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Besides, he’d read enough books to have a decent idea.

Arthur wrapped his arms around her thighs, one hand grabbing onto her waist while the other went to her mound, thumb and forefinger spreading her open just as he dragged the flat of his tongue up her folds, stopping at her clit where he repeatedly flicked the tip of his tongue against the swollen bud. It must have been the right move because Nora yelped and nearly folded in half, one hand grabbing onto his hair and the other onto the pillows, both tightly gripping. Maxson groaned at her rough hold but let her keep it, instead focusing on flicking his tongue against her clit.

“Jesus fuck, Arthur,” she breathed, her eyes tightly closing.

The hand on her waist slid up to her breast, grabbing and groping just as he closed his lips around her clit, lightly sucking on it.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned. “Keep—keep doing that. Use your tongue, too.”

It wasn’t often he followed orders considering he was the one who usually gave them, but now he eagerly obeyed, flicking his tongue against her clit again while he sucked on it at the same time; Nora moaned again, this time even louder, which only encouraged him. He did that a few more times before roughly grinding the flat of his tongue against the swollen bud, and the way her body shivered as she gripped his hair and keened, her back bowing and legs trembling around his face, he knew he was doing it right.

“Arthur,” she breathed. _”Fuck,_ I’m so close.”

The Elder groaned around her, the vibrations likely resounding through her clit, and her hips started rolling against his face, which must have helped her along because it didn’t take much more for her to reach her climax—and the mere sound of her tipping over the edge had his cock throbbing.

Nora trembled atop him, still gripping his hair while she almost folded in on herself and was left panting and shaking and keening. He didn’t stop sucking her clit nor licking at it, and she was soon sitting up and pulling away from his mouth, gasping as he started following her before letting his head fall back against the pillow to give her a break. Arthur licked his lips, tasting her slick and cum on them, and he knew his beard and jaw were undoubtedly coated, as well; his eyes flicked up to her face, though her own were closed.

Both his hands started sliding along her bare body, gently touching everywhere he could while she regained herself. “One more?” he asked.

“Mm-mm,” she replied, shaking her head and finally looking down at him. “No, I think… I wanna fuck you now.”

She shot him a mischievous grin before climbing off the bed and walking over to her coat, but his eyes immediately dropped to her ass; he was fairly certain she was swaying her hips specifically to grab his attention. It worked, to say the least—she had a nice ass.

When she came back, she tossed a small bottle onto the bed—which he guessed was the bottle of lube she’d mentioned earlier—and then climbed back atop him, shifting up so she was on her feet but crouched above him. She spit into her hand before grabbing his cock, rubbing her saliva up and down his shaft.

“Not using it?” he asked, glancing from the bottle to her hand around his cock and then to her face.

“Gonna try without it first. I might be able to take you,” she said, flashing him another grin. 

With that, the General stroked him a couple more times before she started lowering herself down onto him.

It took some work, but she certainly had determination. Nora went slow, easing him in by gradually and repeatedly raising and lowering herself so she took more and more of him each time; and once their hips were flush, she was left panting with her face tato red, her hands resting on his stomach and eyes closed.

And if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure how long he’d last because of how damn tight she was.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her nails lightly digging into him.

His hands went to her thighs, gently stroking her soft skin all the way up to her breasts, where he cupped them. “You alright?” he quietly asked.

“Yeah. Just… it’s been a while,” she answered with a nod.

He was starting to realize she was much more honest when she was vulnerable.

That bit of information was tucked away.

And it… might have made him a little more comfortable, too.

“How long?”

Her tongue swept over her bottom lip and her eyes opened, finally meeting his gaze though she looked down at him from beneath half-lids. “Since before the bombs.”

Maxson’s brow crinkled as he studied her face. He was the first person she’d been with since being unfrozen? Since her husband? “You haven’t—”

The question was cut off as her hips rolled, roughly grinding against him, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, his eyes closing only briefly before he was looking down to where their bodies connected. Nora slid her hands up his stomach and to his chest, her fingers threading into the thick hair as she leaned forward just slightly, hips still rolling against him, though they were now slow movements, almost teasing.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” she whispered. “Just like we don’t need to talk about how you’re a sexy as hell 20-year-old virgin.”

Glancing up at her, he grunted lightly in acknowledgement, and a wide grin stretched across her lips in response.

It was at that point she sat up straight and started moving her hips faster, grinding against him much harder. The increase was gradual, but she was eventually riding him almost frantically, gasping moans escaping her lips as she was soon leaned back just enough so her hands were planted on his slightly-bent knees to hold herself up. It gave him the perfect view of her body, and each time she moved her hips back, he could just barely see the base of his cock between her legs— _fuck,_ she was so small and stretched around him.

“Fuck, Arthur,” she moaned, throwing her head back. “Rub my clit? Please?”

His hands were on her waist, going along with every movement she made and even guiding her to some extent, but with the request, he immediately slipped one between her legs, his palm on her mound and fingers splaying so his thumb pressed to the swollen bud and rubbed quick circles on it. But Nora yelped at the stimulation, her legs almost snapping shut around his hand.

“Too rough. Softer,” she whined.

He let up on the touch just a bit, and her legs opened again as she started riding him once more, which he took his correction as being the reason. Heat was already coiling in his gut, though it wasn’t a surprise considering how damn wet and tight she was, but he had no intention of coming any time soon—no, he’d only made her cum once, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough. Besides, he had a lot more he wanted to do before he was done with her.

The General’s legs trembled on either side of him while her breathing sped up, and he realized the same sort of shaking happened when she’d sat on his face earlier. Licking his bottom lip, his eyes flicked up to hers, noticing her own were closed as her head was still tipped back.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Immediately, Nora was looking at him—he had her attention, just like that.

“Keep your eyes on me, Nora. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Elder Maxson,” she breathed.

“Good girl,” he praised, utilizing what she’d told him she liked earlier.

 _”Fuck.”_ A visible shiver ran through her body just as her pussy tightened around him; he had to hold back a groan. “I’m gonna cum. _Fuckfuckfuck. I’mgonnacum!”_

Nora came around him with a loud moan, her hips frantically rolling against him as he kept rubbing her clit, but she soon paused in her movements, her legs closing around his hand and knees snapping shut just over his stomach while she leaned forward.

“Fuuuuck, Arthur,” she whined.

But he pushed her legs apart and instead wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her down so their lips crashed together in a rough kiss, allowing a quiet moan to muffle against her lips as his cock throbbed inside her, responding to how her pussy pulsed around him from her climax. He’d gotten close, but the feeling was fading now that she no longer moved, though it was a slow fade.

The kiss broke soon after, her lips moving down to his throat where she licked along the column before biting just like she had earlier, leaving behind another bruise that everyone would see—another mark that claimed him as hers. But by this point, he couldn’t care less if anyone else knew, because if they didn’t _hear_ her keening, then they were missing out as it was a damn beautiful sound.

He was left panting and Nora took that opportunity to sit up and turn around, her back to him even as she still straddled his hips. But rather than keeping her legs on either side of his body, she shifted her calves beneath his thighs, forcing his knees to bend a little, and then took ahold of his cock and lowered herself until their hips were flush and he was balls-deep in her once again.

With her back to him, he had a perfect view of her ass. She didn’t grind on him, instead leaning forward so her hands were planted on the bed as she started moving back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of her so her ass collided with his groin each time she moved backward, and _fuck_ if the mere sight itself didn’t make him groan.

Arthur grabbed onto her hips, roughly pulling her back against him each time she moved. “Fuck, Nora,” he panted.

“How many times have you— _mmmnnnn_ —have you thought about my ass, Arthur?” she questioned, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

He _could_ have lied. He _could_ have said he didn’t think of her ass very often, or that he respected her as a leader enough to not think of her that way, but what was the point? He’d already admitted to thinking about her sucking his dick, and she was literally riding him right then.

“Every night,” he quietly answered while squeezing her hips.

“What do you think about?”

His hips bucked up into her as she moved backward. “Taking you from behind.”

“Then why don’t you?”

It was almost like _permission._

Quickly, one hand went to the middle of her back, pushing her forward as he sat up and got to his knees behind her, his cock falling free again despite her ass now being in the air. Nora gasped from surprise, her chest flat against the bed, and she made a small squeak as he didn’t bother waiting for her to move on her own, instead wrapping an arm around her waist and positioning her correctly himself—it was so damn _easy_ to move her around—which was followed by something that almost sounded like a _whine_ from her.

The General wiggled her ass a little, tempting him, and his palm roughly came down on it, a red handprint blossoming on her pale skin. She yelped at the strike, lurching forward when his hand connected. Immediately, guilt and regret flooded him.

“Too hard?”

Her eyes were wide, lips parted, and she glanced back at him. “Um… n-no, I just… I didn’t expect it.”

“I’m sorry, you just—you said you wanted to be spanked, so I thought—”

“Again.”

He paused, blinking, studying the side of her face as she was seemingly staring off elsewhere while her head was rested against one of her arms. But when he didn’t act or reply, she glanced back at him once more.

“Please,” she whispered.

There was hesitation, but he spanked her again, this time on the other ass cheek; it gave her matching handprints. Nora cried out, though it was much less than before and the sound was more pleasurable than shocked.

And when she wiggled her ass at him a second time, his hand came down on _both_ cheeks, coaxing another yelp from her, though her body lurched forward again without moving back toward him this time. Maxson grabbed onto her hip, yanking her toward him, then guided his cock back into her, ensuring he was taking it slow enough until he was fully hilted. Due to their height difference, he had to shift around a little, spreading his knees outside her own, but once he figured it out, he started thrusting, and Nora was moaning beneath him.

“Fuck, Nora,” he groaned, tightly gripping her hips as he fucked her; his eyes focused on the way her ass rippled each time their bodies connected.

One of her hands grabbed onto his forearm, though she didn’t pull or stop him; instead, she just keened into the pillow while pushing back against him with each thrust.

“Harder,” she pleaded. 

It had him fucking her a bit rougher, but he was worried about going _too hard_ —what if he hurt her? She’d said he was thick, which he knew was true, anyway; and on top of that, she was so damn _small._ How easily could he accidentally hurt her if he was too rough?

He didn’t reply nor change his pace any more than that, just keeping it steady from there on out, but she didn’t seem satisfied.

“Arthur,” she called to him, glancing over her shoulder. “Harder. Please.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally replied.

Nora shook her head, her hand squeezing his forearm while her other gripped the pillow. “You’re not gonna— _mmmnnn_ —you’re not gonna hurt me.”

Maxson paused in his movements, his free hand moving to the base of her spine and slowly sliding up. She let go of his forearm and grabbed onto his wrist when he reached the back of her neck, holding his hand there. “Please, Arthur,” she whispered.

“Nora—”

“I can take it, I promise. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

He studied the side of her face for a moment before conceding. “Okay.”

A slight grin stretched across her lips and she pulled his hand up into her hair. “Just fuck me hard. I know you’ve thought about it, so do to me what you’ve been wanting to do _ooOOohhhfuck!”_

Before she even finished her sentence, Maxson snapped his hips against her ass, the noise nearly echoing in the room as their bodies connected, but her moan was much louder. Nora gripped his wrist even harder and he threaded his fingers into her hair, leaning over her body a little though being sure not to put any of his weight onto her since he was holding her head down, but he also didn’t thrust again.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Ar-Arthur?”

“Mm?”

“… Please?”

The sound of her begging was making his stomach twist in arousal, and he realized the control she was giving him was and had been repeatedly smacking him right in the face.

And he didn’t just have control over the situation—he also had control over _her._

 _”’Please’_ what?”

He watched as her tongue swept over her bottom lip. “Please fuck me.”

Sitting back up as much as he could, one hand remained threaded into her hair, holding her head down as she kept ahold of his wrist, his other grabbing onto her hip again while he started thrusting once more. His pace was moderate at first to where he wasn’t taking her roughly like she’d begged him to right away, but it soon picked up, gradually increasing until he was fucking her hard, his hips clapping against her ass in a rhythmic motion that had her keening.

Nora was tightening beneath him, and he realized her free hand had disappeared, which meant she was likely rubbing her clit.

_”FuckfuckfuckI’mgonnacumagain!”_

”That’s it. Good girl.”

When she came around him, he couldn’t stop the low groan that rumbled from his chest, nor could he stop his hips from pounding harder against her ass, fucking her rougher than before. She keened even louder, his name mixed into her moans though the two syllable word came out in vibrato from how hard he was thrusting.

But that familiar heat was back, and before he got too close, he stopped, pulling out and forcing her to roll onto her back by pushing at her hip. Arthur moved between her thighs and immediately crashed their lips together in a rough kiss, one which she devoured as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close.

When it broke, he trailed kisses down to her chest, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples and gently sucking and biting. She threaded her fingers into his hair, her other hand going beneath one of his arms to where her palm slid up to his shoulder blade, fingers splaying.

“Arthur,” she whispered.

After peaking her nipple, he did the same to the other, ensuring both were pebbled before he trailed kisses back up to her neck; Nora tipped her chin up, submitting her throat to him, and never had he seen such a beautiful sight before. He placed kisses and licks along the column, tasting her sweat, before clamping his teeth down on a spot of sensitive skin just above her pulse point and sucking it into his mouth at the same time, ensuring it would bruise and give her a matching mark that would tell everyone they’d been together.

There would be no denying they’d had one another.

And that was fine with him—because just as she’d claimed him, he’d now claimed her.

Nora dragged her nails down his back as he bit her and a low groan escaped him, the feeling of pain sending a pulse of heat down between his legs. She must have noticed he enjoyed it, though, because she scratched down his back again and again and _again,_ so long as he had her skin in his mouth, and for every time she scratched him, he was almost tempted to keep biting her, because it felt so damn _good_ that he had precum leaking from his cock and onto her inner thigh.

“Arthur,” she whispered. “Fuck me. Please.”

It wasn’t exactly begging, but it was close enough, and that was when he released her throat, dragging the flat of his tongue along the marks he’d gifted her before shifting a bit more up her body and then reaching down between them. He teasingly rubbed the head of his cock along her slit before fluidly sliding all the way in because of how fucking wet she was.

Arthur held himself up with his hands placed on the mattress on either side of her shoulders while he thrusted, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, one of her hands holding onto his upper arm while the other was on his shoulder blade, nails digging into his skin. 

“Bring my—bring my legs up here,” she breathed, “On your arms.”

He glanced down at her leg before hooking his forearm around the back of her knee, allowing it to rest in the crook of his elbow, and then placed his hand back on the bed; the same thing was repeated with her other leg. It canted her hips up, which meant he had to reposition how he sat on his own knees, but the second he started thrusting—and it had him thrusting _down_ into her, and _deep_ —something changed: she gasped, her eyes grew wide, her lips parted, and he was certain her nails were about to gift him new scars on his back and shoulders.

“Right there,” she whispered, though it was barely audible. “Right there. Harder. _Please.”_

Arthur stopped holding back, shifting his knees closer to her ass so he could fuck her roughly, no longer worried about hurting her because _she said she could take it._

And at this point, he wasn’t sure he could hold out any longer, because heat was coiling tighter and tighter, and he was _ready to fucking cum._

“Oh, god,” she keened, digging her nails into him; his head dropped as he groaned. “Arthur, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop. _Pleasepleasepleasedon’tstop!”_

Neither of them were touching her clit, so his cock must have been enough, hitting the right spot he’d read about. Should he have been proud?

Whatever. It didn’t matter, because he kept it up, determined to get her there—and as soon as she came, she was nearly screaming, his name mixed into her mewls.

But he couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Nora, I’m so close,” he breathed.

Panting, she locked eyes with him, and he realized her face was as red as he’d ever seen it, the small, dark freckles that were splashed over her cheeks and nose now almost completely hidden. Nora wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him a bit closer. “Cum in me.”

That wasn’t good.

The _idea_ of coming inside her was enticing; watching his spend leak out after he’d laid his claim—but he couldn’t. He really couldn’t. He _shouldn’t._ Arthur Maxson was the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, the last remaining Maxson, so accidents were much worse for him than the regular soldier or wastelander. Besides, _purposely_ coming inside her wasn’t an accident, it was _idiocy._

“Nora, I can’t,” he breathed, shaking his head. _Fuck,_ he was so close. “I can’t risk it.”

It was foolish to even _consider_ coming inside her as an option.

“Please. I want you to,” she begged.

Was that what he wanted to have added to his legacy? That he’d knocked up the General of the Minutemen for one night of fun? That this prewar woman who’d just waltzed right onto his ship and into his bed a few months later had given him a bastard child all because he wanted to get his dick wet?

No, he couldn’t risk it.

_”Please, Sir.”_

Fuck. This woman would ruin his life if he allowed her to.

He thrusted one, two, three more times before burying himself in her as he came, a low moan escaping his throat not just at the feeling but at the _title_ she used. Arthur dropped his head and buried his face in her neck while releasing her legs from around his arms; at the same time, Nora quietly moaned along with him, then wrapped her legs around his hips to hold his body close rather than letting him pull out even after he finished—all he could do was pant against her as he tried to regain himself.

“Fuck,” she breathed. “I could get used to this.”

_Long-term._

“Yeah?” he asked breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

Gently, she stroked up and down his spine, and as he felt his body slowly relaxing, it was at that moment he realized there were no words to completely nor adequately describe General Nora Parker. She was unusual, peculiar, tantalizing, odd, and bizarre, but none of them were enough to encompass who she really was. Nora was beyond words—she was truly indescribable. 

And perhaps he needed to accept that, because it seemed she had intentions to stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long to finish! life sucks, but here’s the final chapter! let me know what you think and what your favorite part(s)of the fic is/are and all that good stuff!
> 
> hope you enjoyed oblivious virgin arthur! it was definitely hard to write my arthur as a virgin.


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